There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked “dangerous” in spite of her calmness.
She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handkerchief still raised to her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon them.
What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? I turned, and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His appearance almost frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a corpse, his whole frame shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were distended until the black pupils shone in the centres of two white circles.
Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he passed his hand over his forehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice:
“Then you are not dead, madam?”
“No, sir,” the prisoner replied tranquilly.
Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his features gradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had first observed in them.
“This meeting is singular,” he said.
A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner.
“Our last interview was very different, was it not, sir?” she said. “The Nottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to-night, and you did not expect to meet me again—so soon!”
Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look.
“No, madam,” he said.
“You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?”
Mohun coolly inclined his head.
“And you have not seen me since?”
“Never, madam.”
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